Chapter Two #2
Your affectionate brother …
F.
Lucas Lodge hosted the evening’s entertainment.
Again, Darcy found his thoughts in contradictory form.
Although an alliance with such a family was insupportable, over the past few weeks, he had developed an interest in learning more of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He had convinced himself that any interest he held in Miss Elizabeth was a mere diversion for his hours of boredom.
He would never take advantage of Miss Elizabeth, not as a former friend had done with Georgiana, for Darcy considered himself to be a man of honor, a man of scruples; yet, he found his diversion to be an unanticipated pleasure.
As much as Darcy enjoyed Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s vitality, her family continued to be less than desirable.
Mrs. Bennet’s connections proved poor: One of her brothers was a country solicitor in Meryton and the other was in trade.
The woman had one goal: find her five daughters suitable matches.
Mr. Bennet, a well-read gentleman with an income of two thousand pounds, took little interest in the activities of his wife and daughters.
Misses Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were acceptable, but the three youngest were left to their own frivolities.
Having observed the Bennets over a fortnight, Darcy feared Bingley might be choosing poorly if his friend continued to favor Miss Bennet.
It went without saying that Darcy’s interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet could never advance.
As the evening at Lucas Lodge progressed, Darcy spied on Miss Elizabeth’s interactions with Miss Lucas, various militia officers in attendance, Bingley, and her elder sister.
He noted of late that little escaped her attention.
He watched as she complimented Miss Maria on her needlework, causing the girl to blush excessively from pleasure rather than shame.
He observed Miss Elizabeth reining in her mother’s exuberance.
The lady, evidently, took delight in Bingley’s attentions to her sister, and she did not suspect Darcy’s growing interest in her, an idea which had pleasure in itself.
Darcy was beginning to enjoy being an astute observer of the company he kept.
His desire to know more of Miss Elizabeth advanced throughout the evening, and as a means to converse with her, he eavesdropped on her conversations with others.
Therefore, when Darcy came near her, although he showed no intention of speaking, Elizabeth playfully confronted him.
“Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster about hosting a ball at Meryton?”
Flustered momentarily that she had taken note of his attention, Darcy fought to recover his composure. “Yours is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.” He knew he should walk on, but an unspeakable desire to remain a few moments in her court claimed him.
“You are severe on us,” she replied.
Darcy quickly assimilated the double meaning of her words. She still waited for the apology he owed her for his conduct at the assembly.
Miss Lucas attempted to divert Miss Elizabeth. “It will be her turn soon to be teased. I am going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”
Miss Elizabeth good-naturedly lamented, “You are a very strange creature by way of a friend—always wanting me to play and sing before anyone and everybody! If my vanity took a musical turn, you would be invaluable; but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” The insult, coated in sweetness, found no offense on his part.
Instead, he searched the depths of her eyes.
Yet, Miss Lucas persevered, and Elizabeth added, “If you insist, dear Charlotte, it must be so.” And gravely glancing at Darcy, she said, “There is a very fine old saying, which everyone here is, of course, familiar—‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge, and I shall keep mine to swell my song.’”
She curtsied and walked away to the instrument.
The mocked sincerity with which she spoke was not lost on Darcy; and although her use of a common colloquialism should offer him an affront, he counted it something new to learn of Elizabeth Bennet.
As casually as he could, he circled the room and took up a position where he could enjoy Elizabeth’s musical turn, as well as take full advantage of observing her profile.
Her performance delighted him. He found closing his eyes permitted him to enjoy it even more.
Her singing was excellent, and although her performance on the pianoforte lacked faithfulness to the notes, her joy for life captivated him further.
Regretfully, she chose to end her performance even though others beseeched her to continue.
Mary, the plainest Bennet sister, succeeded Elizabeth at the instrument; Mary applied herself more completely than did Elizabeth to her practice and sought the gathering’s appreciation, but Darcy felt if her sister spent more time in cultivating her taste rather than diligence in her application, she too might achieve Elizabeth’s easy and unaffected manner.
The younger sisters, desiring their share of attention, interrupted Mary’s performance and demanded the girl play Scottish and Irish airs, more suitable for dancing with the officers.
Darcy, having moved away from the instrument after Elizabeth’s performance, looked on in disgust. He preferred an evening of conversation and, particularly, a chance to converse with Elizabeth Bennet.
While Darcy was so engrossed in his thoughts, Sir William Lucas’s approach took him unawares.
“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing. I consider it one of the first refinements of polished societies.”
In blunt tones, Darcy responded, “Certainly, sir. It also has the advantage of being in vogue among the less polished societies; every savage can dance.”
To Darcy’s dismay, his reserve did little to deter Sir William’s conversation; the man spoke of Bingley’s affability, complimented Darcy’s dancing at the assembly, inquired into how often Darcy danced at St. James, and made enquiries of Darcy’s house in Town.
Distracted by this babble, he did not realize at that instant Miss Elizabeth moved towards them, and Sir William, struck with the notion of doing a very gallant thing, called out to her, “My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am certain, when so much beauty is before you.” Sir William took the lady’s hand and attempted to give it to Darcy.
Taken by surprise at this sudden turn of events, Darcy sought the advantage.
The possibility of holding Elizabeth’s hand uncharacteristically warmed Darcy with an unfamiliar sensation.
Although he was not unwilling to receive her hand, Elizabeth instantly withdrew.
“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.”
“Miss Bennet, you would do me a great honor if you allow us to dance,” Darcy responded gravely.
However, Miss Elizabeth would not agree; even Sir William’s entreaties could not persuade her.
“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza. It is cruel to deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement, he can hold no objection, I am certain, to oblige us for one half-hour.”
“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth with a smile that Darcy knew to be forced. Yet, she continued her refusal and walked away.
Her briskness should have offended him, but it did not. In fact, he was still considering the lady as Miss Bingley approached. “I can guess the subject of your reverie, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered in his ear.
Without turning his head or removing his eyes from the figure of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he responded, “I should imagine not.”
Not to be deterred, Caroline continued, adding her usual censure of the gathering, “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and, indeed, I am quite of your opinion. I was never more annoyed. The insipidity—the nothingness and yet the self-importance! What would I give to hear your strictures!”
Imagine her surprise when he said rather distractedly, “Your conjecture is totally in error. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”
For the briefest of moments, Miss Bingley was dumbstruck; however, she quickly recovered, and with an underlying layer of urgency, she asked, “What lady creates such pleasure for you, Mr. Darcy? Is it someone I know?” Caroline obviously hoped he meant the reference directed upon her.
Darcy replied with resolve, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Though he had barely permitted his eyes to observe her outrage, he saw that Miss Bingley’s countenance betrayed her thoughts.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am all astonishment. How long has she been a favorite? Pray tell, when I am to wish you joy?” And although the lady continued to discredit Miss Elizabeth, Darcy never changed his focus.
The next morning as the Bingley party slept, Darcy partook of the grounds on foot rather than on horseback. He had spent an uneasy night; whenever he sought rest, a pair of fine eyes and an enigmatic smile haunted his dreams.
Despite his best efforts, he wondered how Miss Elizabeth’s sentiments were to be read.
Her flirtations of late had increased. Before she forgave him, clearly, he should apologize for his actions and words at the assembly.
He knew the lady to be a responsive person, one who would excuse his folly for not choosing to dance when they first met.
Yet, on the other hand, a most disagreeable manner formed Darcy’s opinion of the Bennets.
Only the two eldest Bennets possessed any sense of propriety, and though he had taken an apparent “liking” of Miss Elizabeth, his determination not to fall for her remained important.
She would not make him a suitable wife; she did not fit his criteria of what the mistress of Pemberley should be.
He understood he should not encourage her interest; for it would not be honorable. Why did he question his motives? He knew what he should do in regard to his growing interest in Elizabeth Bennet, but what his mind told him to do and what his heart bade him do became two different things.